


Florida Man Says God Told Him to Vandalize Costume Store Because God Hates "Witches"

by advancedclass



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advancedclass/pseuds/advancedclass





	Florida Man Says God Told Him to Vandalize Costume Store Because God Hates "Witches"

Gary sat on the uncomfortable wooden bar stool that, after much pleading by the workers, the store owner had allowed to be placed behind the counter so that people, like Gary, manning the 8 hour shift of pure dreariness solo could rest their feet. Apparently, Celeste had finally been convinced that allowing employees to sit would not lead to them sleeping through their shifts.

Now Gary got to choose whether he wanted his feet to ache or his ass to go numb.

The fear about employees sleeping through their shift wasn't the most unreasonable thing Celeste had ever used to rationalize her managerial style during a staff meeting (that would be the rule banning all food and any beverage with caloric value from store premises because it would tempt hungry ghosts to the premises). The confusingly named COST-U?ME! was the city's only costume shop that ran year round. While other areas of the city would see strange fly-by-month stores pop open in October, vanishing mysteriously by daybreak on November 1, Celeste believed there was a year-round market supplying costumes ("RENT! BUY!! REPAIR!!!" as the window proclaimed) for costume parties, mascot outfits, creepy conventions, and "memorable intimate encounters".

As in most things, Celeste was sort of right, but in practise managed to be entirely wrong. Gary had spent entire shifts where the only "customers" were junior high kids who came in during their lunch period to take turns asking why there was a section of the store curtained off, what was behind the curtain, and if they could go behind the curtain and see. The last time, Gary had been tempted to let them go back there and see the weird twists of leather and vinyl and the dead-eyed stares of fuzzy animal heads that had seen far too much, but his landlord had just bumped his rent up and he didn't want to risk falling victim to one of Celeste's rare good managerial decisions.

Today was Wednesday, the deadest of the dead days in an inherently dead week. It was March, second deadest of the months (the first deadest was November, unless surly post-Halloween storefront eggings counted as business which, despite Celeste's bests attempts, they did not). And it was 3:15 PM a stiff contender for time most likely to result in deadness. So when the crystal wind chimes that Celeste had used to replace the bell over the door chimed ("Each tinkle is the birth of a friendly fairy!"), Gary nearly fell off his stool.

A man in a leather duster trailing near to the ground loomed in the doorway before shuffling inside, hesitantly. He had a rain stained Miami Dolphins baseball cap with the beak pulled down low over his eyes; if it had been a different hat on a different man, it might have looked ominous. As it was, Gary saw a sweaty goth who might still have enough self-awareness to be unable to commit to a stupid hat (but still feared the sun enough in his faux-vampire styling that he needed some kind of head covering). Gary relaxed, settling back on his stool carefully. Weird alternative goth types were the closest thing to a profitable customer base COST-U?ME! had throughout the year and he had, frankly, seen sketchier, sweatier looking dudes come in. The only truly weird thing was the hour; you usually saw them working the night shift.

"Hey man, can I help you find anything?" Gary asked.

Though the question had been asked in Gary's most chill tone (or most apathetic, depending on who he was explaining his customer service style to), the sweaty goth jumped inside his ridiculous coat, tiny eyes peering from under his hat in terror.

"Or you can browse and just give a shout if you need some help." Gary tried to make his voice so calm he felt the urge to check himself for a pulse.

After an awkward moment of almost-staring between the two, the customer managed to breathe out one word: "Witch?"

The request, like the customer's very existence at that hour, was unusual. Witches were usually a Halloween thing, an almost exclusively "sexy" brand that Celeste and several of Gary's coworkers tended to grumble about. Luckily, Celeste didn't believe in things like "off-site storage" or "stock liquidation" and so there were year-round representations of past Halloween's leftover witchy fashion options.

It was best not to dwell on why this customer wanted a witch costume. Gary was in no position to judge. He worked here.

"Back of the store, far left aisle."

The customer nodded his head, jerkily, like he was being controlled by a drunken puppeteer, and pulled his hat back down over his eyes, shuffling in the direction of the witch costumes. Gary could hear the sound of leather brushing against the sides of costumes in the too-narrow aisles as the man made his way to the back.

Then the sound stopped.

Then a new sound started.

A familiar liquid, trickling sound; Gary stuck a finger in his ear and popped it, but the sound continued. Gary bolted off his stool, knocking it over. "Hey buddy, stop that!"

As Gary had feared, the man in the duster had opened his jacket, unzipped his pants, and was peeing with alarming focus, directing the stream to the hook with the witch costumes. He kept peeing, even when Gary had grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Dude, do I have to call the police? What's your problem?"

The peeing continued. "I must. The police can't stop me. He hates them. They must be marked with his disapproval."

"The costumes?"

"The witches," the man hissed, finally looking at Gary, spittle flecking the corners of his mouth.

Gary groaned, releasing the man. "Dude, you're on 21st. You want Witchy Boo-ks over on 22nd."


End file.
